Faelan: A Highland Warrior Brief (5 page)

Faelan was a strong rider. He knew every hill, tree, and burn on both Connor land and the land surrounding it. Probably the whole of Scotland. “We’ll find him,” Tavis said. They had to. Without warriors to guard Faelan’s back, his fight against Onwar coul
d only end in death.

Chapter Four

London, England

“Something must be done about Onwar. He’s drawing too much attention to himself.” Druan picked up his goblet of wine which was mixed with a few drops of human blood and took a sip. He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the fireplace and admired his natural form, so much nicer than the human shell he was forced to wear in public. Soon, if his plan worked, it wouldn’t be necessary to hide at all. His father’s plague would be nothing compared to this creation. The world would fall at his feet. The Underworld would witness his power, and then
he
would be the Dark One’s favorite, not that damned Tristol. “If Onwar isn’t stopped, he’ll empty every insane asylum in Europe.”

“What’s he doing?” Malek asked. “Raising an army of lunatics?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Voltar turned his dark gaze from the contents of his wine glass—straight human blood—and he gave Druan and Malek a h
ard stare. “We could kill him.”

“And risk the Dark One’s wrath,” Malek said, touching the white streak in his hair as he studied t
he blazing fire in the hearth.

“It’s not as if he’s one of the League,” Druan said, both proud that he’d been selected for the Dark One’s special group and irritated that the others were always in his way. The Dark One had handpicked Druan, Malek, Voltar, and Tristol from all his ancient demons to handle his most prized projects. Each of them had lived nearly a millennium, but if they weren’t granted immortality soon, they would expire. It caused a good amount of contention and jealousy, with each trying to outdo the others to please the master, hoping that he would grant them eternal life. They put on a front of unity for the Dark One, who expected them to work together in the battle against humans, but in reality, the League barely tolerated each other. “Perhaps the Dark One won’t miss Onwar.”

Malek shook his head. “He’s too powerful. The master will know if he’s missing.”

“If something isn’t done, his actions will put our plans at risk. Even the humans are starting to notice Onwar’s activities.” Other than Onwar, the Underworld was quiet, preparing for the Dark One’s American war. Druan wasn’t worried about that conflict. He didn’t want anything to interfere with his own secret project, a virus—something
humans didn’t even understand—
that would destroy all humanity. He and his sorcerer had been working on it for nearly a century. The others didn’t know. Neither did the Dark One. And they wouldn’t, until he was sure the virus would work. But it was hard to create anything secret when the League was always underfoot.

Malek looked grim. “Onwar is too close to us. If the master is forced to destroy him, I fear we will all suffer. Remember what happened to the vampires. Destroyed, all of them.”

“We must do some
thing,” Druan muttered.

“We won’t have too,” a voice said from the doorway.

Druan’s fingers clenched his goblet. Tristol. He had appeared out of nowhere as usu
al. How did he move so quietly?

Still in his human form, Tristol pulled off his top hat and coat, shook off the rain, and tossed the items onto a table. In spite of the cold, rainy weather, he didn’t stand near the fire, but moved in that smooth, flowing way of his to a chair he always seemed to favor. He sat, crossed his legs, and studied the other demons with a ple
ased look on his handsome face.

He looked like a damned king, Druan thought, taking another sip of his blood-laced wine.

“The warriors will take care of Onwar,” Tristol said.

“And you know this how?” Voltar asked, his voice deeper than normal. He showed the least deference to Tristol. They all were wary of the Dark One’s favorite demon. His position with the master was envied by demons of all orders. A word whispered in the Dark One’s ear could have dire consequences. The others might grumble behind Tristol’s back, but to his face, they smiled. Voltar didn’t bother.
But then Voltar never smiled.

“I have my methods,” Tristol said, the expression on his face hardening into something that made Druan’s heart thump with fear. Tristol stared into the flames in silence until Druan wondered if he’d hypnotized himself. Then he looked up, wearing the suave, confident smile again, the one made Druan feel weak inside. “Don’t worry. Onwar is as good as dead.”

***

“I don’t think he even stopped to take a piss,” Ian said, wiping the rain from his brow.

London had welcomed them in familiar fashion; opening her gray skies to anoint them with a steady drizzle that soaked through their kilts, right to the bone. Tavis studied the outline of the city through the misting rain. This wasn’t his first visit, but each time he hoped it would be his last. He didn’t like it here. Too many buildings and people. Too many demons. It was hard to breathe in a place like this. “He’s here somewhere. We just have to find him.”

“We should have brought a Seeker,” Ian said, skirting another murky puddle of water. “The Council wouldn’t have liked it, but to hell with the Council. Faelan’s life might be at stake.”

Kieran brushed back his dripping hair. “We’ll go to the Morgan clan, clean up a bit, then start looking for him. He’ll have checked in with them.”

Michael had clans throughout the world, each with the same purpose, protecting humans from demons. Any warrior could expect hospitality from a local clan while on the hunt for
a demon.

“A warm meal and a bed
wouldn’t come amiss,” Ian said.

“You and your belly.” But they were all hungry and tired. They’d traveled for two nights, sleeping on the ground, eating what was left of their rations. There was a secret house the clan sometimes used, but it was in the opposite direction, on the outskirts of the city. Tavis nudged his horse and they moved on. On the outside, the warriors who lived in London looked far different from highlanders, even from members of their own clan who lived in the countryside. But underneath the refined clothing, warriors were all the same
. Tough, strong, and dedicated.

The Morgan clan received them gladly. One of the warriors remembered hearing another warrior say he thought he’d seen Faelan.

“Where was he?” Tavis asked.

“Outside an insane asylum,” a warrior named Benjamin told them.

“Why would he be outside an asylum?” Ian asked.

“There are strange things happening at this asylum. A dozen people have gone
missing in the past fortnight.”

Kieran frowned. “Kidnapped or escaped?”

“We don’t know,” Benjamin said. “No one sees anything. And it’s not the only place it’s happening. Demented people are disappearing all over the city. Everyone’s starting to talk. Some of them are relieved, some are afraid. One of our warriors went to check into the matter yesterday.”

“Did he find anything?” Ian asked.

“We don’t know. He hasn’t returned. We were planning to send another warrior, but we don’t have many available. Several were sent to a town outside London where there have been several vicious attacks.”

“Could be these vanished inmates doing the attacking,”
Tavis said. “Are they violent?”

“Some are,” Benjamin said.

“Onwar is one of the most unstable demons there is,” Kieran said. “I bet his filthy hands are involved in the disappearances and the attacks.”

Faelan would have come to the same conclusion, Tavis thought. After cleaning up, filling their bellies with food and drink, and borrowing a change of clothes—nothing fancy, they wanted to blend in—they headed out to search for Faelan. Benjamin took them by carriage, passing through the more affluent sections of London before reaching the poverty-stricken area where the asylum was located. They stopped a few streets away, not wanting to draw attention to their carriage, which would have been conspicuous. They left their swords inside the carriage, but each had dirks and knives hidden in boots and under clothing.

The rain had stopped, but daylight was fading and the sky was still gray and threatening. Like an omen. They stood on a street corner, trying to determine the exact location of the asylum.

“Benjamin said it was
on a side street,” Tavis said.

“The whole place makes a man feel like slit
ting his own throat,” Ian said.

Tavis turned to Kieran. “Sorry we dragged you into this mess.” Kieran was planning to retire by year’s end. He was only thirty and nine and had never taken a mate, but after spending most of his life as a warrior, he’d finally decided to leave demon-hunting behi
nd and try his hand at farming.

“Och, what’s one more battle?” he said, shrugging. “I couldn’t let Faelan go after Onwar alone.” He frowned. “He takes too much responsibility. Always has.”

“Not always,” Tavis said quietly. “He used to be different. Mischievous. Reckless.”

Kieran nodded. “Before your brother died? Aye, he told me about him once. A demon killed him, he said.”

“Now he thinks he has to solve the whole world’s problems,” Ian said. “Like this. Damn fool thing, going off to fight an ancient demon without anyone’s help.”

“It’s a good thing he has brothe
rs like you to watch his back.”

“And friends,” Tavis added, remembering that Kieran had saved Faelan at least once. A large raven landed on a leaning lamppost at the intersection of two streets. The bird’s head turned and its black eyes looked right at Tavis. He felt a shiver move up his spine. The raven continued to watch him, as if it was waiting. Voices sounded from the small street behind the lamppost. Laughter, but not normal. Mo
re like a high-pitched wailing.

“This way,” Tavis said. The streets were nearly empty now. They followed the sounds, walking past several dirty, run-down buildings. Tavis could have sworn he saw the raven again. Then something larg
er moved between two buildings.

Kieran pulled a dirk from his boot and hid it under the waistband of the trousers he wore. “I’ll go this way. You follow the voices.”

They found the asylum a few streets away in a bleak building surrounded by more bleak buildings. A round face peered out from the second story window as they approached. Tavis rang the bell and a man answered. He looked frightened, but after they explained that they were inquiring about the disappearances, the man seemed to assume that they were with the police. There was little to tell, he said. People were disappearing from their beds in the middle of the night. Most often men, a few women. He started to say more, but stopped, only continuing when Tavis prompted him. One of the inmates, a woman, claimed she had woken at night and seen the devil himself carrying one of the o
thers away.

Onwar.

They inspected the rooms, but didn’t see anything that might tell them who had been there. Any demon smell would have faded by now. They thanked the man and went back out on the street where they ran into Kieran. He was holding a skinny man by the arm. The man had greasy hair, and his torn clothes indicated that he hadn’t come willingly. “One of Onwar’s halflings. I found him trying to sneak away. He knows where Onwar is. He’s agreed to take us there.”

“Agreed?” The halfling sneered, trying to pull away. Kieran gripped his arm harder and made some terrible th
reats, and the halfling calmed.

“He has a castle outside London,” Kieran said.

“After this dreary place, a demon’s castle would be welcome,” Ian said. “What does Onwar want with the
inmates?”

“He’s turning them into minions,” the halfling said.

“For what reason?” Tavis asked.

“He’s going to turn them loose on London so they can destroy the city.”

“We’d better find Faelan,” Ian said.

They led the halfling back through the streets of London to where Benjamin waited with the carriage. “Onwar must be behind the attacks our warriors are investigating,” Benjamin said after they explained the situation to him.

“He must be turning the minio
ns loose already,” Kieran said.

Following the halfling’s instructions, they left London. Twice, Tavis spotted a raven, and he felt that cold chill along his back. He warned the others to watch out for traps. Demons didn’t often take on animal forms, since they couldn’t do as much damage as they could disguised as a human. But something about
the raven didn’t feel natural.

The weather immediately improved as they found open land and fresh air. The sinking sun painted a pink glow along the tops of the trees, a definite improvement from the gray drizzle. Tavis hoped it was a good omen. He wanted to find his brother, help him get rid of this demon so they could all go home. He was still tired from his last assignment. The others must be too. But his tingling battle marks didn’t inspire hope. They took turns resting inside the carriage while one kept an eye on the halfling and the o
ther rode up top with Benjamin.

The carriage followed a winding road, and true to the halfling’s word, Tavis spotted a castle far off, nearly hidden in the trees. Black horses appeared like ghosts, spilling out of the castle gates. From the distant cries and lifted swords, Tavis doubted it was a welcoming party. He banged on the side of the carriage as Benjamin pulled the team of horses to a stop.